England's Queen
by SappyGemstone
Summary: England has had many rulers. But something is different about this queen. Is it the devotion? The passion? The love she has for kingdom and country? England ponders his own feelings towards a boss that fascinates him: Queen Elizabeth I
1. Chapter 1

I assume Queen Elizabeth and England are a popular pairing. But I must tell this story to tell my next. I imagine this one won't be long when all is said and done. T for Teen for future non explicit sexy times, England as a character is of course not mine. Enjoy! Oh, and I always like feedback, so if you'd be so kind as to review that would be lovely :)

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><p>I was waiting. And I so hate waiting. I busied myself among the treats and flowers in my lady's boudoir, celebratory gifts from the finest families in England, Scotland and the civilized world. I fingered gold and jeweled trinkets, ate from a bundle of grapes, sighed and sunk into an elegantly carved chair in the corner of the room.<p>

The door to the boudoir burst open. a cavalcade of flittery women poured through the entry, chattering excitedly and squealing at the sight of such delights on display: chocolates from Spain, sumptuous cloth from France, fruits from Italy. They cooed and sighed and busied themselves with arranging things just so.

A young woman, chin high, brows raised, fiery hair streaming down her back and brushing the pinched waist of her forest-green silk gown, entered the room. There was a hush among the women, and all curtsied in unison. The woman cast her gaze around the room, her face a mask. Then she cracked a smile.

"Well, my ladies," she said, picking up her skirts and pattering to the bedecked tables. "What has the world to give to the Queen of England?"

The women giggled and swamped the young queen, draping her in necklaces and feathers and brocade. The queen laughed, forcing slices of orange and apricot on the girls who dutifully declined before, with mocking regret, accepted the treats.

"All right, enough, enough!" the young woman said, waving her entourage away. The women protested, but obeyed, giving the queen a wide birth as she turned away from them and stepped lightly around the table. "It has been a very long few days, my ladies. Please, leave me be but for an hour and I will be most grateful. A bit of peace is all I wish for."

The women curtsied and filed out of the room, still chattering amongst themselves. The queen waited until the very last lady swished away, closing the door behind her, then let out a long, deep, content moan and lowered herself into a chair by the table. She smiled, picking up a gilt hand mirror, lifting it to eye level and twisting it in her hand.

"Queen Elizabeth," she said quietly. "Goodness, can you imagine?"

"Yes, I can," I said wearily.

Elizabeth gasped and jumped up from her chair, ruffling her skirts. She turned toward my corner, fear in her eyes. Quickly the fear was replaced by the mask, and her back straightened.

"Who are you?" she asked, her voice firm. "And how did you come to be in my chambers? Speak quickly, or I shall scream for the guards."

I hopped up from the chair and bowed.

"No need for that your majesty," I said, lifting from my bow and walking to the gift-laden table. Elizabeth backed away from me, carefully keeping me in her line of site. "I have merely come to introduce myself formally. You've been cycling through the tiresome process of coronation, and I haven't had the chance. Of course, I was at sea for much of it. Never did like the ceremonies, much too fussy."

I stole more grapes from her table and popped them in my mouth.

"You have not yet answered my question, sir," Elizabeth said, her voice rising. "Tell me now. Who are you?"

"Oh, yes, of course." I waved a hand over my head as I picked through dried figs for a good one. "I am England, naturally. I am sure you are familiar with me, yes? Ah, these figs look a little off to me. What do you think?"

I held out a few of the fruits for her to examine. Wide eyed, she shook her head.

"Guards!" she cried. "Guards!"

Four burly men burst through the door waving pikes and canvassing the room.

"Your majesty, what is the trouble?" one cried.

"That man," she said, pointing at me. "Take him! He is quite mad!"

The four men looked at me, confused, then back at the queen.

"I…I don't understand," the leader said, coming out of his stance. "Who are we to take?"

"What, are you blind?" the queen said crossly. "The man right there! In front of you!"

"But – but I can't," the leader said, his face twisting in an effort to work out what he was being asked to do. He shook his head, bringing a hand to his cheek. "I mean I could, but – I feel strange."

"Please, your majesty, I don't believe your men have any desire to lock up their country," I said mildly, letting the figs fall from my hand to the table. "A patriotic lot they are. All you're succeeding at is hurting their poor brains with paradoxes and implications and a lot of other nonsense they can't quite comprehend."

The queen blinked, pursed her lips and stomped her foot.

"Go," she said sharply to the guards.

"But –"

"I said go!"

The guards bowed and quickly left, shooting nervous glances at their queen.

"Wonderful, the seeds of doubt are sewn," I grumbled, leaning against the table. "And I was so hoping you would live a while. Do you know how nerve-racking it is to introduce oneself to a new boss every five years or so? So inconvenient."

The queen shook her head, scowling at me.

"Who are you, you crazed man?" she said, stepping around me, her voice withering. "That you can hide in plain sight in my room, bemuse my guards and consider yourself worthy of speaking to me so freely? WE are England, you impertinent creature! Leave us! Now!"

I sighed and rolled my eyes.

"Must it always be so dramatic?" I grumbled, drumming my fingers on the table top. "Really, you Tudors are all about the flare. I am simply an employee. Or perhaps an employer. I've never really worked out how this all works. Still, call for me and I will do your bidding. Until someone comes along with a stronger bid, anyway. Ha!"

The queen did not move, her eyes still narrowed at me.

"Oh, very well," I said. I lunged at her, grabbing her hand and pulling her toward me. She gasped and fought, but it was too late; I had her by the shoulders and stared into her eyes. She squinted, as if trying to catch sight of something in the distance, then slowly her eyes grew wider and wider and her lips trembled. She pushed away from me hard and covered a hand with her mouth.

"That did it," I said, brushing wrinkles from my doublet. "Never fails, though I wonder what you lot see. Never do tell me, do you?"

"How can it be?" she whispered. "Both man and country?"

"Again with the flare," I said, shrugging. "I just am, your majesty. I am England, nothing more, nothing less."


	2. Chapter 2

The queen was speechless. She held out a hand toward the table, grasping a few times before hitting her mark.

"Anyway, pleased to officially meet you," I said, clicking my heels together and giving her a sharp nod. "I'd best be on my way. Call for me if you need me, of course. Particularly if you plan on pestering France."

I grinned, then headed for the door.

"Wait, I demand that you stay here," the queen said, lifting her chin. I paused and looked over my shoulder.

"Yes, your majesty? Any great plans for me come to mind in the last few moments?"

"No, I simply -" she stopped, let go of the table, and walked carefully towards me.

"I apologize for my reaction," she said, walking around me, examining me. "You must understand, I never thought I would meet my country as flesh. It is rather extraordinary to me."

"I can't see why," I said, shrugging. "Your predecessors managed to take it in stride. Of course, they usually had other things on their mind; war, duplicity, religion, rivalry, that sort of thing. The common worries of the ruling class."

She stopped in front of me and looked up at my eyes, brows furrowed in thought.

"England is the only thing on my mind, sir. It has been from the moment they told me my sister was dying," she said, prodding my chest with a sharp finger. "Or HE has been, I should say. It does give me pleasure that my country is a good looking young man, at least. No pock marks. Strong frame. Good teeth."

I blushed and clasped my hands behind my back.

"Madam, I am not a horse," I said.

"No," she said, laying a hand on my chest and giving me a wide smile. "But you are a commodity. Men buy you and sell you. Invade you. Die for you."

"It sounds crass when you put it like that,"I said, removing her hand and backing away. "How can I help that you people have strange ways of showing love for me?"

The queen laughed.

"Lust for you, more like," she said, sweeping away to her gift table. She gathered a few things, chocolate, nuts, earrings, and held them up for me to see. "Just as they lust after me. Look at what France and Spain sends along with offers of marriage. Look how hard they are trying to purchase me. Invade me."

She let the treats and jewels fall to the floor and stepped over them, her skirts stirring the pile as she passed.

"The men here are suddenly honey-lipped, when before they gave me no time of day," she continued, the mirth draining from her face as she paced the floor slowly. "Advisors whisper in my ear, trying to turn my head in their directions. All wanting a taste of the power I now have and never dreamed of possessing. All thinking that my silly female mind just needs the right words, the right praise the right trinkets, the right -" she shook her head, brought her palms together and spread her hands apart. "And I will bloom for them the way they wish."

I lifted my brows, studying the young woman in her trance. The queen stared at her hands for a moment, then blinked and looked up at me with a smile. Her pale face lit up, pink in her cheeks. Her green eyes shone. I let in a quick breath and glanced away.

"You are the first who came to me with no ambition in the last few days," she said. "And I wish to repay you. Please, sit."

'Really I must be going -"

She took me by the hand and dragged me back to the table. She pushed me into a seat, and began picking through the figs.

"You are right, these are subpar," she muttered. "Tell me about yourself."

I was taken aback.

"A - about myself?" I said, cocking my head and playing with the buttons on my doublet. "I haven't a clue what you mean."

"Of course you do," the queen said, tossing me a not too weepy fig. I caught it and looked up at her. She sighed. "Your interests, man," she said. "Likes and dislikes. Your past. Your desires. Amuse me, sir!"

"For goodness sake, this is ludicrous." I bit into the fig and shook my head. "Your majesty, you would know my past if you studied well enough with your tutors, and my interests are my own."

"So you were indeed found by the lost Trojans?" she said, looking up from her search. I choked on my fig, coughed, then laughed uproariously.

"Are they still teaching that tripe?" I said, snickering and wiping away tears. "I thought it was discredited long ago. Why on earth try to scrub our humble beginnings with Roman legend?" I glowered. "Rome. Now HE was a thorn in my side. I have no desire to emulate HIM."

"No need to be smug," she snapped. She threw a few figs squarely at my head. I sat up straight.

"You were the one who asked, madam!"

"Fine, then." The queen pushed the separated figs towards me, then sat in the opposite chair. "If you will not tell your past without huffiness, and you keep your hobbies to yourself, tell me at the very least what I can to for you."

Again I was stunned.

"What you can do...for me?" I said, tasting every word of that sentence.

"Yes of course." The queen sat up, set her shoulders. "I have pledged to serve England faithfully, and that is what I shall do. You are here in front of me. Speak."

I sat in silence for a moment, unsure of how to respond. Beyond the doors of the queen's chambers, I could hear the scuffling of servants and ladies-in-waiting bustling about to keep busy until they were called by her majesty once more. I stalled, soaking in the light of the large, airy room, staring at the stone floors covered with intricate rugs, looking up at the pitched ceiling hung with currently unlit candelabras. At the walls hung with sumptuous tapestries of floral gardens and crashing seas. At the carved wooden door that hid my lady's bedchamber from view. At the sun-filled window and it's wavy glass, rattling with chilly November winds.

"Well," I said finally. "Well..."

Again I turned my head to Elizabeth, raising my brows.

"If you can stop all this burning of heretics nonsense, that would be a great help," I said. "First, it's all rather confusing. The Protestants, then the Catholics, then Protestants again. I was fully expecting a return to Catholic oppression, but if we can avoid it all together..." I dipped my head. "Of course, I know my people will treat each other with resentment and hate no matter what. It is human nature after all. And it pains me. Like an ache in my chest. But when the state and the people are at odds, you must understand that the ache becomes...well. Everything dims, fuzzes, feels intangible. It is, shall we say, unpleasant."

The queen cocked her head, her face once again a mask.

"Really? This is all you ask of me?" she said, every word annunciated carefully. "To end religious strife within your borders? No requests for more land, or for more power?"

I nodded curtly.

"Yes. Put an end to opposition against the people, any specific people who do not really harm the state. That is my only request."

The queen furrowed her brows, then smiled slightly.

"England, my dear, I think we may get along just fine."


	3. Chapter 3

The sea is my refuge. For as long as I can remember it was there, a comforting blanket surrounding my boarders. My people came by sea, and my elder brothers' people before them. (Ireland talks of an old man who came before him that remembered a time when ice joined lands together and people walked across to our islands, but perhaps that's all tall tales.) As such, even as a youth I craved the water, the sound of it slapping against a sturdy hull, the smell of brine and fish on the wind, the glint of sunlight off murky waves. When times are hard, I run to the sea. And times, I must admit, are often hard.

But this new queen, this Elizabeth, was a difficult soul to run from. She charmed me at our first meeting, I begrudgingly admit. But it was her resilience that made me realize that I was quite taken by her. Every day she battled for her place. Every day she held her head high, and made her claim for the crown. And every day the sea's siren song grew fainter as I watched her stand her ground to do what she thought best for her country. What she thought best for me.

Think of it! A young woman, never tested in power, and the first thing she does is hammer out a truce between the warring Catholics and Protestants, standing up to the stuffy old men who see her very reign as an abhorrent blasphemy.

Oh, yes, I know that it wasn't a perfect deal for all in retrospect. Religious freedom is all the rage now, and allowing for Catholic trappings in a Protestant church seems a pittance in more enlightened times. And of course she was never good to the Puritans, which lead to unfortunate – but I am getting ahead of myself.

Just picture with me now: a bright, late spring day. I was walking the manicured lawns of Windsor. Elizabeth trotting towards me on a sable horse, shining red hair slipping from its pins and streaming behind her blue hat, white feather whipping in the wind. I stopped, blinking, and smiled.

"Hello, your majesty," I called, removing my hat and giving a shallow bow.

"My dear England," she said, pulling her horse up in front of me. She smiled down at me. "How do you do? You know, it amazes me that I have never seen you on the grounds before I met you."

"Oh, I have visited the royal palaces many times, majesty," I said, placing my hat on my head. "I assure you I have seen you though you may not have noticed me. But that is typical. Most take me for granted."

"Well I assure you I don't," the queen said. Her smile widened. "I am pleased to inform you that this heretic business as you called it has been settled. I promise you there shall be no aches and pains on that account for as long as I reign."

I took in a large breath and nodded, then noticed another horse closing in on us. I furrowed my brow.

"That is good to hear," I said, distracted by the newcomer. "I had heard, of course, but knowing directly from you – who might this be?"

A tall, dark-haired man, mustache perfectly waxed, beard trim, stopped his horse next to Elizabeth's.

"Majesty, I lost you," he said, holding out his hand.

"Yes, and you have found me again," the queen said, lightly brushing his palm with her fingers. "Clever boy."

The man smiled, glanced at me, then turned his full attention on me.

"I'm dreadfully sorry," he said, smiling in confusion. "Have we met? Only you look so very familiar."

"Oh! Of course. Robert, forgive me this is, ah,"

"Arthur," I said quickly, giving the man a small nod.

"Yes, Lord Arthur, Earl of, ah, Manchester."

Both I and the young man looked at the queen, I with brows high.

"I did not know Manchester had an Earl," the man said, cocking his head. "I never have heard –"

"Yes, common mistake." Elizabeth smiled. "You know how father was near the end of his days. Secretive titles thrown around and taken away again. Though you heard none of that from me, Richard."

"Believe me, it was quite a surprise," I intoned, rolling my eyes. Elizabeth cleared her throat.

"And this, my lord Arthur," she said, recovering, "is Lord Richard Dudley, Earl of Leicester."

They exchanged the most nauseating look of affection.

"My lord," I said stiffly.

"Oh, yes, pleased to make your acquaintance," the Earl said, smiling vaguely in my direction. "Majesty, your entourage awaits you to begin the midday meal," Dudley said with a rakish grin. "You do not want to keep the hens and cocks waiting."

"Go on, then," Elizabeth waved her hand in dismissal, and laughed. "I shall follow."

"Very well." Dudley nodded at me. "My lord."

And off he went on his mount, cantering towards the palace gardens. Elizabeth watched him ride, cheeks flushed. I coughed.

"Earl?" I said, crossing my arms.

"Well I couldn't very well say who you really are," Elizabeth said, looking down at me with a sheepish smile. "Come on then, "Lord Arthur," let us to luncheon!"

She rode off. I hesitated, then ran after her on foot through the trees and over the cropped lawn until I broke through the canopy. A yellow awning flapped in the wind over broad purple sheets. A small group of lords and ladies, about ten in all, sat upon small stools around a table laden with cold meats, cheeses, breads and dried fruit. Wine was passed between the group by silent servants.

Dudley was at the queen's horse, hands raised to her waist. She slipped easily from the horse into his arms, righted herself, smoothed her skirts with a hand, and let a groom take the reins from her hands. A twinge in my chest made me clear my throat. Elizabeth looked toward me.

"Ah, Manchester." she pushed gently from Dudley's arms and held out her hand to me, which I took carefully, and led me to the waiting party. "Everyone, I wish to introduce the Earl of Manchester. He is a dear friend, and I would that you treat him as a friend of the crown. Please, my lord. Sit and be merry."

"Really, I don't believe that would be a good idea, majes -"

"Nonsense! Break bread with us, or I shall be most displeased," said she with a smile.

I blushed in irritation, and bowed. There was a general murmur of confusion among the guests, though most did try hard to keep it under their breath. And then it began. One of the ladies sighed and lifted her hand to me.

"Please, Manchester, sit with me if you will," she said. "Tell me of yourself."

"He should sit with me," a young lord blustered, standing and pulling me towards him. "I doubt he'll have much conversation with you, my lady."

"Hogging new company!" the lady snapped. She slipped off the stool and grabbed my other arm, and both pulled me under the awning. Three more nobles surrounded me, chattering, touching my hair, my cheeks, sitting me down on a stool. A new young lady sat herself upon my lap and made to feed me raisins.

"I don't see what all the fuss is about," one dark-haired young lady said from across the tent. "He's a tacky little twit." She blinked and covered her mouth quickly.

"Don't be so modest," a young man replied. "I don't see the appeal, either. A scrawny, weak looking character, isn't he?"

The three who were left, talking amongst themselves, hardly noticed the commotion surrounding me, or the hateful spittle from lord and lady insult. The queen took this scene in with wonder. The fawners were now trying to impress me with song, and feats of strength (two young men were now engaged in a wrestling match at my feet.) The barbs from the insulting duo grew louder and more vicious. Still three men and women, as well as Lord Robert, ate and chatted without concern.

"Enough!" cried the queen. All stood immediately, and bowed their heads. "My guest will be treated with respect. If any great emotion overpowers you, you shall do well to quell it until his departure. Is that clear?"

"Yes, your majesty," the seven offensive guests murmured. The queen sat, and all sat with her. Dudley joined the queen.

"Forgive me, majesty," he said, voice low, a confused smile twisting his mouth. "But who is this guest again?"

"The Earl of Manchester!" the queen snapped, exasperated.

Dudley looked at me.

"Oh! Of course. I thought you had left, my good man!"

"Oh, honestly!" the queen rose. All rose with her as she grabbed a few raisins and a small loaf. "Manchester, with me," she said sharply. The fawners moaned as I left their presence and followed the queen into the gardens.

We walked in silence a few minutes, rounding beds of spring roses and crocuses.

"What on earth was that display?" she said finally. "I have never witnessed such a commotion! What an annoyance."

"It is fairly typical," I said stiffly. "I did try to warn you. They may not know me by sight, but somewhere in their fuzzy heads they know who I am."

"I don't recall acting like that," the queen muttered. "Like some awe struck child or a ninny or -"

"Or not noticing me at all? Yes, well, not anymore you don't. But you are no mere citizen," I countered. I kicked at the gravel walkway. "And who is my lord Dudley, may I ask?"

The queen's mouth flopped open and she blushed.

"He is an old friend," she said, averting her eyes. "I have known him all my life."

"Yes, of course," I said, witheringly. "Seems like a nice fellow."

"He is I assure you." She glanced at me, then quickly looked away. Her flush grew deeper. "He is, ah. He is married."

"Oh?"

"Though his wife is quite ill. Poor thing. Near death, they say."

She paused. I furrowed my brows and frowned.

"Poor thing indeed," I said, voice low.

Elizabeth was now red as the setting sun.

"I will marry him when the time comes," she said, holding her chin high. "You will be very pleased, England. He'll be an excellent consort. And our heirs will protect you from internal strife."

"Your majesty, what do I care about heirs?" I said flatly. "I will have bosses after you, whether they come from your loins or are born to the pig farmer's wife."

"England!" she said sharply. She shook her head and walked quickly from me. "How dare you be so crass to me!"

"Pardon, your majesty, but are you not the one planning marriages with a man whose wife, though dying, has neither foot in the grave?" I said, voice rising to follow her. "I am not sure why you would even share this with me. Why would I want to I know who warms your bed?"

The queen stopped in her tracks and whipped around, her face drawn as if I had slapped her.

"I-I..." she pursed her lips, her blue eyes flashing fire. "If you must know, I have no one else to tell. The girls can gossip, the noblemen can suspect, but I must keep mum at all times."

She looked off to the side.

"It is like this with many things," she muttered. "Silence is safety. Even the tiniest scullery maid may use their knowledge of me as a weapon."

She cocked her head high again, whirled around and walked on, leaving me stunned and blinking. I caught up with her.

"I am sorry, your majesty," I said. "Forgive me. I have been used for many things by your predecessors, but as a confidant - well, that is an entirely new sensation for me."

"What, did they not talk to you?" the queen scoffed. "Unlikely."

"Of course," I said ruefully. "To tell me who to befriend. Who to fight. Who to hate or love. But conversations? Why would they have conversations with a tool? They might as well talk to a hammer, yes?"

The queen glanced at me, then down at her swishing skirts.

"And the people treat you less than human," she said. "Like a deity or a bitter rival or invisible as the air they breathe, but not an equal. Hmm. Do you have no one to speak to yourself, then? About more than trivialities?"

I thought for a moment

"The other countries, I suppose - wait." I twisted my hands behind my back. "Well. It is much like you. We talk, but we are all wary. Who knows when we shall be at odds again?"

A smile played on my lips.

"The sea simply is, and cares not for rivalries," I said. "Perhaps the sea is all I have for company."

"Not so," the queen said. She laced her arm in mine. My chest ached as she looked up at me and smiled.


	4. Chapter 4

Slowly the Queen's need for me increased. At first simply a member of her court, soon Elizabeth had me flying about the world at her behest.

"We must open a wider area of trade," she said. "England, go meet with Russia."

"I am not in the mood for war," she said. "England, try your best to befriend France, ponce that he is."

"Surely we can hold a place in the Caribbean," she said. "England, take a look at the New World and tell me what it holds."

And so I'd fly, to Russia, to France, to the New World, all at her pleasure. Like every boss, her call drew me to her. But never did I feel that it was a burden to do her bidding, for every command was for my benefit.

I was on my way back from the New World, my notebooks filled with information, when I felt the Queen's call, louder and more frantic than ever before. I clutched my chest, gasped and hurled myself over the ship's railing. As I surfaced, I could hear the panic of the crew. Protocol would have me be discreet when travelling with the common people, but the Queen's need was too great for protocol. Within hours I was running through the halls of Winsor to reach Elizabeth. I passed a group of stunned ladies maids and threw open the doors to the Queen's private cambers. Elizabeth looked up from her chair, face red and puffy with tears.

"Leave us!" the Queen commanded. The flittery women stood, curtseyed and left in a flurry.

Elizabeth dried her eyes on an embroidered cloth, blinking the last of the tears away. I glanced away and stood erect, hands at my back.

"You called, Majesty?"

"It has happened," the Queen said. She stood, her gilt skirts ruffling about her, and walked to her window and leaned against the windowsill. "Amy Dudley is dead."

I stiffened.

"Then your desire has been granted," I said coolly. "A period of mourning and my lord Robert shall be Queen consort. Congratulations."

"It is not so easy as that," Elizabeth whispered. "It was not illness that took her, but accident."

She turned and walked quickly to me, grasping a hand.

"There are those who are crying murder, England! Murder! My Dudley…surely he didn't…" she sunk to the floor, weeping. "I love him so!"

Her proclamation tore at me. Carefully I pulled the queen's hand from my own.

"He will not be the first murderer with a crown in England," I said flatly.

She looked up at me.

"What do you mean?"

"It isn't unknown, that's all," I said. "If he did kill his wife, I mean. It wouldn't be the first time –"

"No, England, you misunderstand," she said. She wiped the tears away once more, took my hand and lifted herself from the floor. "I cannot marry Robert."

I was stunned. I gaped for a moment while Elizabeth sat on her chair.

"And why can't you marry him?" I said, finally, furrowing my brows. "If you love him, I mean."

"It would mean scandal," the Queen said simply. "My reputation would be hurt. It could even mean ruination. Attempts at abdication. Possibly attempts on my life. And I with no heir…" Her eyes were red, but still her gaze was of steel. "England will be weakened if I marry Robert. That cannot happen."

I placed a hand on my breast.

"You mean you would choose –"

"I cannot believe you would even ask the question," the Queen cut in, her face now her regal mask. "I would always choose you over any personal desire."

"Even over love?" I sputtered.

She narrowed her eyes.

"Whose daughter am I?" she snapped. "Of course over love! Especially over love, that destructive, perilous emotion!" Her mask broke. Her chin wobbled. "Oh, but it does hurt, my England. It hurts me so!"

I kneeled at her feet and kissed her hands. She slipped from the chair and sobbed in my arms. I was hers completely from that moment on.


	5. Chapter 5

"England, your sovereign cannot play coy forever."

Spain sipped his hot chocolate, fully relaxed in his plush chair. I sat with him in his cozy, if somber, salon. Black velvet seemed to cover every surface that wasn't dark, heavy wood furniture.

"She'll have to marry some time. I don't see why we can't have an alliance through our bosses' wedded bliss. We need not be enemies. Remember Catherine, or Mary?"

"Yes, Mary," I said vaguely. I stirred the thick, unappealing liquid, stalling my first sip. "I'll admit, her majesty has considered the proposition." I shrugged. "But we shall see. She has many prospects after all. She can't -"

A wave of nausea hit me, and I stuttered to a halt. My face blanched. Spain sat up in his chair.

"Are you all right, my friend?"

"Yes, quite all right." I stood quickly, grabbing my hat. "Something has suddenly -"

The world tilted. I grabbed the table to keep from falling. My breath was shallow.

"Ay mi. Of course." Spain sat back in his chair again. "The queen, she is dying. So much for alliance."

***  
>I charged the doors of her private suites, and was immediately surrounded by people. Like a herd of cows they pushed me back, pushed me toward the hallway, not really realizing what they were doing.<p>

"Smallpox," one or two of the ladies in waiting said, grasping at my sleeves and pulling at my doublet. "You must go. Go."

"Damn it, I don't need your protection!" I said, pushing them away. "Since when do any of you care so much for England?"

I fought through them and entered her bed chamber. Nurses surrounded her, two doctors attended. They barely noticed me as I kneeled by the bed and took Elizabeth's hand. Her face was mottled with pus-filled pocks, her hair thin around the temples. Her hand burned me, and sweat poured from her body. Her eyes opened slightly and she weakly grasped my hand.

"Majesty?"

"Oh, England," she whispered. "I was afraid you would not come."

One of the doctors looked up from the desk at which he was taking notes.

"She has become delirious," he murmured. I ignored him.

"Of course I came," I said, smiling. "I felt your distress."

"You felt your own distress," she said, sighing. "I leave no heir...turmoil will come..."

"You will not die," I said firmly. She smiled a small smile.

"Perhaps we are cursed," she said. "The children of Henry the wife killer. Perhaps we are punished for the sins of the father."

She sighed and closed her eyes. I squeezed her hand and set my teeth.

"You will not die."

***  
>A pile of books was steadily growing in the middle of the floor of my library. Ancient scrolls and pamphlets littered my desk and table. I leaned against my bookshelf, flipping the pages of a yellowed, leather-bound tomb, growling with frustration. I slammed the book shut and tossed it in the pile.<p>

"Nothing!" I cried, running my hands over the books on my shelf, hoping a title would pop out for me. "I know I have seen it before!"

I pushed away from the shelf and threw open the lid of a battered trunk. I sorted through sacred knives, amulets, lucky charms, goblets of purity, mortars and pestles. I pulled out a large piece of chalk and three beeswax candles, all black. With my foot I kicked away the pile of books, then pulled up the thick rug that covered the stone floor. I crouched down and drew a large circle, placing a few symbols around the edges. I lit the candles with the candle burning on my desk, let the wax drip on the floor, then placed each candle equidistant from the other along the circumference of the circle.

"If I can't find the answer, then I will summon someone who will," I muttered, sitting in the center of the circle. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes.

Restless spirits whom hover in death's wake  
>Please seek thee out the answer to mine plea<br>There be one whom hindered death. For my sake  
>Spirits, call him and bring him safe to me!<p>

The flames of the candles shot into the air. Even with my eyes closed I felt their heat. A howl of wind swirled around the outer limits of the circle, beating at its edges. I kept my face calm, even as the din grew to a deafening roar. Suddenly, all noise ceased, and the flames shrank. I cracked open one eye.

A young man sat on my desk, bowl in one hand, two sticks jammed in the center of a pile of noodles. His hair was long and black, pulled back into a ponytail. His eyes were shaped like almonds. He wore a loose green tunic, which he brushed with his free hand before picking up the sticks.

"You rang?" he said as he shoveled noodles into his mouth.


	6. Chapter 6

"Who are you?" I whispered, unsure if the man before me was alive, dead or simply a demon in disguise.

"That is a stupid question," the man said, pointing at me with his sticks. "You are the one who summoned me, and you don't know who I am?"

I shook my head. The man carefully set down his bowl and slipped off the desk.

"I am Qin," he said with a bow. "You may know me as China?"

I perked up.

"China! Yes, I have heard of you!" Quickly I blew out my candles and collected them, scuffing out the circle of chalk. China watched me as I worked, then wandered to my bookcase. "I've heard of you from Portugal. And Russia has also spoken of you, though he's more familiar with Mongolia."

I dumped my candles into my trunk and brushed my hands on my doublet.

"Yes, Mongolia," China said absently, pulling out a book and rifling through it. "I really hate that guy. This is an impressive collection!"

"What? Oh, well." I coughed and stood at attention. "It is as complete as I can make it, for now. Perhaps someday I'll have a chance to know the majicks of all other nations…"

"Majicks?" China looked amused. He handed me the book. "That is what you call the sustained warping of reality? How quaint!"

He squatted next to my trunk and rummaged through it.

"Careful!" I quickly placed the book on its shelf and kneeled next to China, waving my hands above the trunk. "Some of this is priceless."

China pulled out a string of bones from various small rodents. He smirked.

"I see."

He tossed the bones back in the trunk and wiped his hand on his pant leg. He stood and leaned against my desk.

"With all of these knickknacks of sorcery, whatever could you need me for?" He said, his voice oozing sarcasm. I blushed and stood, back straight.

"You were summoned to show me how to stop death," I said coolly.

China's eyebrows jot up, he grinned.

"Now THAT is interesting!" He said. "How to stop death! One wonders how any country can –"

"Not a nation," I interrupted, shaking my head. "A human."

"Oh." China crossed his arms, his eyes dull. "That's far less interesting. No challenge in keeping a human alive."

"So you do know how to save a human life?" I said excitedly, grabbing China's shoulders and squeezing them.

"Yes, of course," he said, his voice bored. "You do not live as long as I have without picking up a few things."

He gently pushed me away and slid a clean piece of parchment from the top of a pile of paper to the center of the desk. He then took my quill from its well, flipped it and dipped the feathered end into the ink. With a smooth hand and steady wrist, he sketched a number of symbols unknown to me.

"There, you see?" he said, laying down the quill.

I stared at the symbols, frustrated.

"This means nothing to me," I snapped.

China sighed and handed me the quill. He pointed to each symbol, calling out their names.

"The blood of your human. The blood of a nation (in this instance, of course, you). Tea made from mandrake root, heated on a black flame (I am sure you have the black flame, right? Of course you do, you hold most of a magic shop in your library.) Pour the blood in the tea as you say this chant, here (there must be a chant. Always a chant to firm things up). Then, either have your human ingest the tea or dip a talisman in the tea for your human to wear. The effects of the former are, of course, more permanent than the effects of the latter." He stepped back. "Will that do?"

I jotted everything down on the parchment as he spoke, but paused when he spoke of the effects. I narrowed my eyes.

"This is no health potion," I said, reading over what I had written. "With the mandrake alone…"

"Oh, a health potion!" China clapped his hand against his temple and shook his head. "Well, that would require an entirely different –"

"No, wait," I said, holding up my hand. "What exactly is this spell?"

"It is nothing," China said, grabbing for the parchment. I jumped away, holding the thick paper close to my chest. We eyed each other a moment. He looked down and shrugged.

"It is just a little something I discovered a thousand years ago or so," he said, voice bored once more. "A spell to help humans cheat death for a while."

"Cheat death?" I looked at the symbols. "You mean…Immortality?"

"Not quite," he said, leaning against the desk once more. "You link the person with the life of a nation. His lifespan, his apparent age, his stamina, all reflect that of the nation. For a human, it is as if they have achieved life eternal, since they are likely to live ever so much longer than they would as a human. Of course, we know that no country lives forever." China grinned. "And of course, there is no guarantee that death will not come sooner than expected. If a country is close to death so shall be the human."

My wonder and excitement grew as he spoke.

"And you have used this before?" I asked breathlessly.

"Eight times," he said. His voice lowered. "Eight people who now think of themselves as immortal. And only one who visits me regularly."

I did not pay attention.

"To think that she can be with me forever," I murmured.

"Do you still want your health potion?" China asked, picking up his noodles.

"Nononono, this is perfect," I said, waving him off without looking at him.

"Very well," China said with a shrug. "Good luck, little nation. Until we meet again."

"Yes, yes, thank –" I looked up. He was gone.

* * *

><p>The doctors and ladies in waiting barely perceived me as I lit the black flame candle and placed it under a metal wire flame on the Queen's bedside table. I set a small cast iron pot filled with the milky liquid of a pressed mandrake on the frame. An unpleasant odor filled the room, cutting through the general stuffiness of sickness and sweat. I picked up the Queen's pale hand, so far unmarked by the pox.<p>

"Soon you will be well, your majesty," I whispered. She did not respond, too deep in her fever for comprehension. I drew my knife from my belt and slit her index finger. Blood welled from the cut. I slit my own, and held both her hand and mine over the pot. I took a quick breath:

"Thy life intertwine

Join thee with mine

Thy life undone

Two become one."

The liquid became a deep, syrupy red. I set the queen's hand down again, and reached for a small gold chain around her neck.

"A talisman," I whispered. My hand hovered over the chain, and I stared at the liquid.

"More permanent," I said. I pulled my hand back in to my chest, wiggling my fingers.

"Yes."

I picked up the pot and carefully poured its contents into a goblet on the table. I picked up the goblet and blew on the potion before moving my arm under the queen and lifting her head. I held the goblet to her lips.

"Drink," I said, pouring a bit into her mouth. Her lips moved slightly, then opened. I poured a bit more. She swallowed. Her eyes flew open, and she took the goblet from my hand and tipped it back, drinking greedily. She threw the goblet to the floor and gasped for breath. The doctors looked up from their notes and ran to her bed.

"She is in crisis!" one cried, shoving me away.

The queen sat up completely and screamed. The pox that curdled her skin dried up and flaked off her face. The doctors backed away from their patient, one crossing himself. The queen's scream stopped suddenly, and she fell back into her pillow. The doctors stood in awe, the ladies maids huddled in fear. There was silence.

The queen opened her eyes once more and sat up slowly.

"I am the Queen of England," she said quietly. "I have been favored by God today. Glory to him and all his power."

The ladies in waiting swarmed the bed, chattering, weeping, questioning. I smiled and backed out of the room as quickly and as silently as I could.


	7. Chapter 7

They call it the Golden Age. The time when my queen ushered in a new period of prosperity for her nation. While once I was limited to my island, only occasionally seeking land on the Continent, by the end of the age I was at the beginnings of an Empire.

She worked diligently, my Queen. After her brush with death, she swore her doctors and ladies to secrecy so that her miracle would not be claimed by either protestant or Catholic.

"Tell them that it was the grace of God that led to my survival," she said.

"But your face is smooth," a lady said, brushing Elizabeth's cheek. "Unmarred! How -"

The Queen held up a hand.

"Take my hair," she said. "Cut it down. Shave me. Cover me in paints. All will assume that I am attempting to hide the scars and will say not a word but flattery."

And so it was. Her long copper tresses were shorn from her head and wigs were created to enhance the illusion of hidden wounds. She teared up when she saw the results in the mirror.

"Better this than conflict," she murmured as lead paint and powder was brushed on her cheeks and forehead and her lips and cheeks were rouged.

As she held court, she was engulfed with compliments to her beauty and health. The Queen let them shower upon her without a word, content that none suspected how strange her recovery had been.

She took once more to rule as a master takes to chess. Once again she moved the princes 'round the board, promising marriage to one while flirting heavily with another. Piracy was legalized, the coffers made full thanks to Spanish ships. Spain often complained to me, but I would merely shrug and smile.

"You can't expect me to stop thieves," I said.

"You are sometimes on the marauding ship!" Spain sputtered.

"Only to watch!"

Spain shook his fist, but was helpless against my privateers.

When Elizabeth's throne was challenged by her cousin, she deftly had her jailed.

"Scotland does not want her," Elizabeth said as she drafted the notice. "And I will not have her wandering about France raising an army to depose me."

"France is a pillock," I muttered.

"Is he?" Elizabeth looked up from her writing and smiled. "I am not surprised."

And so she ruled, bringing prosperity and stability unlike any I had felt in almost a century. I grew complacent, happy, fat with my abundance. Pleased with my Queen, loving her always, I refused to see the flaws beneath her brilliance.

It came in little ways at first. She loved Robert Dudley still, and favored him. They would meet privately from time to time. As the years passed, after such meetings the Queen would sit in front of the mirror, pinching and prodding her cheeks.

"England," she said. "My Dudley once said…" she paused. "The Earl of

Leicester once said to me that I am like an unblemished rose. That I still carry my youth." She turned to me. "I once thought it was but flattery. Still…his face has begun to sag. His hair is now nearly all grey. I can see him age before me. But I…" she turned to the mirror spread the skin at her eyes. "Barely a line."

"It is not unknown for your ancestors," I said quickly. "Henry VII was quite youthful."

She was placated for a while, until the time came that she signed the declaration for her cousin Mary's execution.

"I do not sign this lightly," she murmured. "To kill another sovereign Queen is anathema. But I must protect England at all costs." She looked to me. "My England would expect no less." I smiled at her as her staff took the notice away, but she did not return my smile.

"England," she said. "I was told that my cousin is…was very beautiful," she said.

"Oh, I suppose," I said nonchalantly, waving a hand. "I saw her once or twice. Though of course, she has long since lost her bloom."

"I suppose she was not as lucky as I," she quipped. "What with my good breeding, I seem to continue to blossom."

She quickly walked away, leaving me to muddle through her statement. But I ignored it, for how could my Queen be anything but happy? No threat to her rule, no end to her prosperity, all her friend. So I believed, so I convinced myself. I watched her rule with a steady hand. I watched her, radiant in silver breastplate and long, white skirts, defy the Spanish Armada and bolster her troops.

"I know I have the body but of a weak and feeble woman," she cried to the men at attention. "But I have the heart and stomach of a king, and of a King of England too, and think foul scorn that Parma or Spain, or any Prince of Europe should dare to invade the borders of my realm!"

The Armada was crushed, Elizabeth was praised, all was well.

So I thought, stupid, inattentive me. So I believed until the day the Queen's favorite, Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester, died.

#

The ladies stood watch as Lord Burghley, the Queen's advisor, pounded on Elizabeth's door.

"Madam you will remove yourself from cloister!" He bellowed through the latch. "This is not becoming of a lady, let alone the Queen of England!"

:"I will have you remove yourself from my door, Burghley!" the Queen cried.

"If you do not come out by tomorrow morning, I will have the door removed!" Burghley countered.

"As you will!"

"Ornery woman," Lord Burghley sputtered. He pointed at the ladies. "Watch this door! Run to me if she comes out!" The ladies nodded and retreated with him to the Queen's antechamber. I watched them go, waiting until all were out of site. I knocked lightly on the door.

"Your Majesty," I said curtly. "It is I."

There was a moment of silence.

"Enter," the Queen said.

I scooted the door open a crack and slipped inside.

No a candle or lantern illuminated the room. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the moon streaming through the window. My Queen sat limp upon her vanity chair, her arms dangling at her sides. Strange stains covered her gown, forming at a rip in her bosom and covering her arms and hands. She held a dagger in her right hand, and suddenly I realized that the stains, dark streaks in the moonlight, was blood. I rushed to her side and grabbed her right arm.

"What have you done?" I cried, shaking her.

She wrenched away from my grip and jabbed the dagger at me. I jumped back. She let her arm fall again to her side.

"I died last night," she said simply, looking away from me. "At least, it felt like death. My heart was in agony, so I thought to take it out would be best."

"You wouldn't -"

"The dagger slid easily in my chest," she said, turning her head sharply toward me. "I felt it - my heart stopped. The pain. The blood. The ebb of life leaving me. I was sure I was dying. And yet -" she waved a hand in the air. "I live."

I took a long, shuddering breath.

"Your Majesty -"

"What did you do to me?" the Queen snarled, lifting herself in the chair. "I was near death and then I was not. What did you do, England?"

"I - I can explain," I stammered.

"Explain?" She jumped up from the chair and threw the dagger aside. "So you have done something! Of course you have. Look at this!" She picked up bottles and jars of ointments and unguents and shattered them against the wall as she spoke. "Paints and powders, always remaining hidden! Always hiding my true self, hiding my unnaturalness! My face!" She pulled her hands down her cheeks. "As smooth as a young woman! But I am no young woman!" She whipped around and marched toward me. "If I had children, I would be a grandmother by now!" she snapped, prodding me in the chest. "I am nearly crone, but I look the maiden! What have you done to me!"

I grabbed her wrists and held her from me, squaring my chin.

"It was a potion," I said quietly. "One that would keep you from death. There were side effects. Like the possibility of longevity."

She shook me off and stumbled back.

"Longevity?" she whispered. "My God, what sort of longevity?"

"Your life is now linked to mine," I said coolly. "You will not die until I am cut down."

She blanched.

"But." She paused. "But you have lived for…"

"A long time," I said. "About twelve hundred years as I am now. Perhaps longer, though that was my childhood and a bit fuzzy."

She gasped and covered her mouth.

"A curse," she whispered. "You have cursed me! Unnatural life! Monstrous being that I am! I shall never see the gates of Heaven! Never see my...my Dudley…"

"Not so," I said, standing at attention. "I will die, Majesty. Someday. Nothing lasts forever."

Tears streamed from the Queen's eyes.

"I sacrificed all for you, England!" she said, voice deep with pain. "Love. Marriage. My own blood! Even!" she laughed and pulled off her wig. "Even my hair!"

"Your hair will grow back," I said, trembling, trying my best to keep steady. I took a step forward. "Please, your Majesty. Elizabeth, I -"

"Do not dare use my name!" she snapped. "I have been friend to you, but you are no friend of mine! Leave me!"

"Majesty -"

"Leave me!" She screamed.

I was rooted but a moment before my hasty retreat. I closed the door behind me, muffling her sobs. I rearranged my doublet, blinking quickly to remove the treacherous tears that pooled at the corners of my eyes.


	8. Chapter 8

Her reign faltered. I could feel it eating away at me: terrible economy, war that drained resources, increased oppression. Every pang in my heart was a new problem, a new issue that sent me reeling. Every MP that murmured angrily sent me gasping for breath.

"Elizabeth, speak to me!" I called through the halls of Windsor castle. "Tell me what I must do! Give me a path!" But she never appeared, and she never called me.

One by one her closest friends and advisors were laid to rest. One by one her people turned against her, hungry and grasping, wondering when she would finally fall and another would take her place. But still, she did not call to me. For fifteen years she did not call to me. Her silence sucked away my joy. There was no comfort in my rooms, no contentment on my land. Even the sea, my only constant friend, seemed cold and cruel. I was alone, more alone than I ever had been when I was merely neglected. I was rejected. The people bolstered me, never angry AT me, only FOR me. But my Queen, my love, my only desire, would not have me. Though I stood at attention for the sake of my people, I was made hollow.

Fifteen years of silence one day broken by the barest hint of a whisper:

"England."

I jolted awake in my bed and threw off my sheets, breathing heavily. Sure it was merely a dream.

"England!" the voice said again, sharper, clearer, more demanding. I held my chest as I struggled into my leggings and pulled on a doublet.

"England!" the voice cried. I was out of my rooms, running, flying, urging my legs across the stone floors of the castle. I burst into the Queen's apartments, heaving for breath.

"Majesty?" I said, stumbling to the Queen's bed. She was dressed for sleep, but she sat cross-legged on the untouched bedding, a folio in her lap.

"Good. You are here," she said, turning a page. She looked up at me. "I need you, sir."

My heart beat quickened. I stood at attention.

"Yes, your Majesty?" I said coolly.

"You have brought me life," she said, looking down at the folio once more. "Foolish thing that you are. What did you expect would come of a ruler who has an unnaturally long life?"

"I -" I licked my lips. "I never thought -"

"We determined that ages ago," the Queen said. She sighed and held out the folio. I hesitated, then took the sheaf of papers from her hands.

"Romeo and Juliet?" I said, shaking my head and furrowing my brow. "I - I don't understand..."

"You gave me life," the Queen said, lifting her chin. "Now, you will help me die."

* * *

><p>The funeral was beautiful. Thousands of mourners lined the streets. There was the weeping, the wailing, the gnashing of teeth. The new king, whom I had not yet appeared before, gave marvelous speeches about his dear cousin's passing. Those that handled the body marveled at the preservation of such an old, and therefore of course decrepit, specimen.<p>

"Why, she doesn't look a day over thirty," one lady in waiting said as she washed and dressed the corpse.

"S'all the relaxing of the muscles, dear," her companion said as she slipped the Queen's most favored personal jewels about her neck. "It's completely natural, this youth in death."

The procession was solemn and dignified, the funeral long and despondent. Finally, the body was lowered into its resting place, the Queen's effigy slid on top and the mourners dispersed.

I waited. For days, mourners came to pay respects to the newly entombed Queen, brushing her likeness with their hands for luck. Finally, the quiet moments between visitors grew further apart. The night was dark and moonless when I snuck into Westminster with a blacksmith's pry bar clenched in my left fist and a large cloth bag in my right. I padded to the Queen's effigy, jammed the pry bar into the crack between marble slab and tomb, and pushed. The stone top slid slowly open, revealing the Queen's stiffened body. I stopped and wiped my brow, and placed the pry bar on the floor.

"All right, Bess," I muttered, pulling a small vial of green liquid from the pouch at my waist. "Time to end this nap."

I pulled apart the Queen's clenched jaw and dribbled all of the liquid into her mouth. I lifted her head a bit and waited. There was silence in the Abbey as the minutes ticked by.

Suddenly, the Queen's eyes snapped open. She breathed in deeply and clutched for her throat, coughing. I pulled her from the tomb. She lay in my arms for a moment, holding me as her breath became more steady. I helped her to her feet.

"Goodness, how long has it been?" the Queen whispered, placing a hand on the inch long fuzz that covered her head.

"Two months," I muttered, brushing dust off her burial gown. "You had many who mourned your passing."

"That is most comforting," the Queen said, pushing away from me. "And you brought everything?"

"Of course." I opened the bag and pulled out the simple dress of a middling merchant's wife. The Queen grabbed it. "Turn around," she said. I complied. "This will do most nicely," she said. I heard the rustling of fabric. "The gown will be sold, of course. Along with the jewels. I'll have to be careful, a stone at a time, a sample of cloth here and there. I cannot risk suspicion after all."

"I don't understand why you can't stay with me," I muttered. "Or at least let me help you! There is plenty of money - "

"Money that is not mine to take," the Queen said firmly.

"My money to give!" I snapped.

"I'll have none of it. There! You may look now." I turned and found my Queen reduced to commoner. She smiled and touched her coif. "How do I look?"

I took her hand.

"Please, Majesty - "

"Elizabeth," she said, raising a brow. "You may call me by my name all you like, now."

"Madam, please!" I said sharply. "You must not leave me like this to go out into the world! The world is harsh, the people unkind! I can -"

"Stop." The Queen pulled her hand from mine and placed it on my lips. She smiled sadly. "I will be no one's kept woman, England. Not any longer."

"But - !"

"You say this because you love me," the Queen said. She shook her head and held my cheek. "You foolish creature. I do love you, my dear England. I always will. But I cannot love you as a man loves a woman. How can any love a country in such a way? You are a mercurial lot, my friend."

She took a step back. I could not speak. I was locked in place.

"Well!" She threw the bag about her shoulders and steadied herself. "A good walk, and I should be well out of London by morning!"

"There is a block of cheese and some bread as you asked," I said, each word carved in stone.

"My thanks," she said. She smiled once more. "I am free, England," she said. "I did not think it at the time I discovered your doings, but I am truly free! I thought I'd die a Queen. Now, I shall die as simply Elizabeth."

"I am pleased for you," I said, not looking at her.

"We shall meet again," she said, backing slowly away. "Someday when I know for certain that we can be friends. Until then, my love!"

She walked quickly away, disappearing into the shadows of Westminster. I breathed out a shuddering breath, and began to push the effigy back in place.

* * *

><p>I have seen her since then. Not as a visitor. From a distance, a copper-haired woman will catch my eye, dressed in cloaks or simple smocks or business suits. She will stand, staring at me, waiting for me to notice. A quick wave, a smile, and she is gone once more, knowing that I am not ready to receive her as anything less than my love.<p>

Perhaps someday she will come to me. Perhaps someday I will forget her, and she will be my friend once more.

Perhaps.


End file.
